


No One Wanted This

by RobinPlaysTrumpet15



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cussing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 20:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinPlaysTrumpet15/pseuds/RobinPlaysTrumpet15
Summary: Barry just can't seem to take any more...Seriously, though, there are some triggers up in here. Please read note before reading. Rated Mature for self-harm and lots of cussing.





	No One Wanted This

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus... God. What is this? I'm sorry if this is absolutely terrible. I've barely even proof read it myself. I'm tired and I wanted it posted.
> 
> Anyway, there are some triggers in here. It handles, specifically, mental health issues, self-harm, a suicide attempt, and blood. If any of these bother you, please don't read.
> 
> Well, I hope you guys like this?

No one wanted this to happen. Barry knew that.

It wasn’t anyone’s intention for him to feel so fucking awful all the time. No one had meant for him to go home and sit in the shower for as long as he could without being suspicious, or trying to fake sick under the covers of his bed.

Barry had spent way too much time thinking of certain things that scared the ever loving shit out of him, but he couldn’t seem to stop. He would contemplate taking his razor apart, just to see what the blades looked like (obviously, that was the reason). He had a strange thought once about a steak knife he had nearly taken to keep in his bedroom “just in case” (you know, if some burglar got in the house, powers be damned).

And suddenly, without even realizing it, Barry was finding himself thinking about what life would be like for everyone if he just… didn’t exist anymore.

Barry didn’t want to kill himself (right?), but sometimes…

Barry didn’t want to die, but he wasn’t sure he could keep living.

The main problem was that Barry, despite being a superhero that got smacked around a lot by other metahumans, did not like pain. Honestly, he has to look away and winces when he gets a shot, and he genuinely does not enjoy being punched in the face, or shot with a handgun, or thrown off of buildings.

So Barry Allen, who often found himself thinking of self-harm or suicide or just popping out of existence, cannot actually bring himself to put the first two into action. (The third one was just generally out of the question.)

He’d read once on the internet that there was a french word that translated to “the call of the void”, which was about the random thoughts you get of jumping off of something really high, like a building or a cliff or what have you, but it can also be general random suicidal thoughts that a person does not normally have. He’d searched it after Iris had made a comment about it when they were fourteen. Barry had said something about suddenly wanted to fall off of the tallest building in Central, and she had gotten all excited and told him she knew what that feeling was, spouted off some french word he cannot honestly remember, and then proceeded to tell him all about it.

Barry felt his chest cave in just a tiny bit at the thought that this was not that french word he could never remember.

But Barry still couldn’t hurt himself.

Or, he thought he couldn’t.

The day had been rough. Captain Singh was all over his ass about a case that was slow-going, and not due to anything Barry was doing, thank you very much. Dr. Wells had told him, once again, that he was too distracted by wanting to play the hero. Caitlin was running test after test for any amount of time, no matter how short, he spent at S.T.A.R. Labs throughout the day. Cisco was ranting about how his suit had gotten fucked up (again) from a fight with a metahuman, which also could not be helped, thank you very fucking much.

Then Barry got home, and suddenly Joe was saying something about how Barry needed to keep his cool with Singh because he very well could lose his job, and Joe already had to stick his neck out for Barry plenty. And Iris was talking about her blog again, and saying something about how they hadn’t hung out recently, and…

Barry just could not take it. Not one more damn second of it.

He pushed his chair back from the table, maybe just a bit too forcefully and stormed away, up the stairs. Barry found himself slamming his bedroom door shut, then turning and scrambling for a pair of sweats and a hoodie. Once he had them, he opened his door just a bit to peek out and ensure neither of them had followed him upstairs. They hadn’t.

_Well what did you expect? You did just act like a total ass for no reason._

He tiptoed quietly across the hall to the bathroom, shutting himself in and starting the shower before stripping off his clothes, leaving them balled up on the floor. He pulled his towel from it’s hook, setting it on the toilet lid for once he got out.

The water wasn’t exactly warm when he got in, but that was fine. Lukewarm was better than cold. It would warm up eventually anyway.

At first he had meant to shower, but then suddenly he was staring as something pink and white in the corner lip of the tub, next to a shampoo bottle.

A razor. Probably one Iris had inadvertently left here when he’d moved out. Funny how he had never noticed it before.

_Break it,_ a voice whispered. _Pull the blades out._

_They’d all be better off anyway._

_You’re worthless._

_You can’t do your job right. Singh has never liked you anyway. Without you, they can hire a different CSI to be a pain in someone’s ass._

_You’re a failure to Dr. Wells. He wants you to do well, and all you want to do is be a hero. You don’t really save anyone anyway._

_You’re Caitlin’s lab rat._

_You keep fucking up Cisco’s suit. He worked hard on that suit to make sure it could withstand the shit you put it through!_

_Joe has had to deal with you since you were eleven years old. He wasted time, energy, and money on you for years, and he’s still saving your damn job nearly a daily because you can’t do it._

_You’re a terrible friend to Iris! You’re always blowing her off to go to something “important”._

_Oliver hates you._

_Felicity comes to town to see Caitlin and get use out of your powers._

_Diggle never liked you._

_When was the last time you did anything right?_

Barry didn’t remember taking the razor apart. He didn’t remember holding one of the blades in his hand, studying it as he built up a list of reasons why he made everybody’s lives shit. And honestly, if he had been trying to think of a reason not to do it, he was do a pretty sucky job. Because suddenly he was faced with a long list of reasons why he should, and a single reason why he shouldn’t.

_It would hurt._

Who fucking cared?

Barry dug the blade hard into his arm without any hesitation.

*

Barry fought his body tooth and nail to do some real, lasting damage. And eventually, he realized that he did.

Time seemed to speed up, and he almost didn’t realize what was happening until he heard a knock at the door, followed closely by Joe’s voice.

“Barry? You okay?”

Barry scrambled, dropping the the blade onto the floor of the tub where it sat in red and pink tinted water as it ran down the drain. He’d forgotten.

He’d forgotten that he was known for moderate shower times in this household. When he’d had an apartment, it never really mattered. He could sit in there for hours if he really wanted to. But not here. Here, he was in the bathroom for maybe twenty minutes tops.

Shit, how long had it been?

“Bear? You’ve been in there awhile, what’s up?” Joe’s voice was beginning to rise in concern.

Barry didn’t want him to be concerned. Joe had already felt too many things for him over the years. He’d taken him into his home, he’d clothed him and fed him and helped with his homework. Joe never had to do any of that, and Barry felt guilty for it.

“U-uhh,” damn, his voice was shaking. “Just a minute.”

“Barry, it’s been an hour. What’s going on?” Joe demanded.

Barry suddenly tried to stand, slipping in his haste and landing again on the floor, where he felt the blade from the razor slice along the side of his calf. Damn, hadn’t meant to do that. Then again, there were cuts lined deep and neat up and how his arms and thighs. Barry healed fast, but not that fast. Besides, it was possible some of the cuts might require stitches, even for him.

“Barry?!” Joe yelled. Barry tried to grown out a response, but couldn’t, laying with his forehead pressed against the cold of the tub wall. The water had run hot a long time ago. Why wasn’t the tub all warm? His head felt fuzzy… Oh wait… that’s right. That’s what blood loss does to you. So he had done some damage.

The bathroom door opened, and suddenly the shower curtain was pulled back, letting in a rush of cold air. Barry shivered and whispered, shying away from it towards the hot water again.

“Oh my god…” Joe muttered. Barry noticed vaguely as the water shut off, leaving him lying in the cooling bloody water that was still running down the drain. Until sometime soft covered him and hands were gripping his shoulder and upper arm, hoisting him into a sitting position.

He was covered by his towel, Joe scanning over the cuts not hidden by navy blue fabric.

“Dad? What’s going on?” Iris asked from the hall.

“Iris, go call Caitlin. Tell her to get medical supplies ready and that we’ll be there with Barry soon,” Joe instructed. Barry assumed, in his fuzzy headspace, that she had gone to do that since she didn’t answer again.

“Alright, kid,” Joe caught Barry’s attention, green eyes focussing on him a bit slowly. “You know I can’t lift you anymore, so you have got to help me just a bit here.” The older man looped Barry’s arm around his neck, clutching his wrist without heeding the woods there. He wrapped his other arm around Barry’s waist, gripping the towel there so it fell just so to avoiding completely exposing him.

Barry nodded at his pseudo father, doing his best to get his legs under himself as Joe lifted some of his weight. Once he was up, the room tilted strangely, but Barry stayed on his feet thankfully, leaning on Joe.

“Good,” Joe said. Barry frowned at how calm he seemed. “We’re going to sit you on the toilet, you are going to pull on your underwear and I will come back with a t-shirt. Got it?”

Barry just looked at him for a second, trying to process his words, but more focussed on why Joe wasn’t freaking out. He’d never freaked out in the past when Barry did stupid, dangerous stuff, but that didn’t matter right now. But then he nodded and let Joe set him down on the closed toilet lid.

Joe left quickly, and Barry did his best to do as asked. He leaned to grab his underwear, ignoring how the bathroom began to spin a little as he did so, then somehow managed to get his feet through the leg holes and pull them up, lifting to settle the waist band around his hips.

Joe stepped in the moment he was done, handing Barry a shirt that the younger man dutifully pulled over his head and managed to not get his arms tangled in. Then Joe pulled the first aid kit from the bathroom closet and set about to tightly wrapping rolls of gauze around his forearms and thighs. Barry winced a couple of times, muttering an ow only once.

Joe didn’t say anything until he was done. He turned around, picking up a blanket Barry hadn’t even noticed him bring in, then wrapped it around Barry’s shoulders.

“You’re going to stand, and we’re going to walk to the car,” Joe said.

“Shoes,” Barry said. Even he noticed how the word came out week and slurred.

“Iris will get a pair.”

“Wet,” was Barry’s next argument.

“I don’t give a damn, Barry. You’ll dry-”

But Barry whined, effectively cutting him off. Barry didn’t whine.

“Don’t be mad,” Barry mumbled, letting his head fall forward so he wouldn’t have to see Joe’s face. “You’re mad, and I don’t want you to be mad…”

Joe sighed sadly. “I’m not mad, Barry. But we have to get you to Caitlin at S.T.A.R. Labs. She can help you.”

Barry thought, processing, then nodded, letting Joe help him up. Slowly, they made it out of the bathroom and down the hall. Joe took the most amount of Barry’s weight that he could as they descended the steps, gripping Barry through the blanket as tightly as he could.

Suddenly they were in the car, and Barry was bundled neatly in the back seat with Iris at his side, wiping back dripping hair from his face and whispering words that didn’t even sound like English. He couldn’t remember what she said, or why she had his head resting close to her chest so he could hear her heartbeat.

Was she buckled in? Shouldn’t she be using a seatbelt?

“Seatbelt…” he mumbled, but he wasn’t sure she heard him.

But then he started to drift. He always fell asleep during long car rides, and this one seemed to be taking forever. So he closed his eyes, happy to drift into something that seemed warm and dark and peaceful. What was Iris so worried about anyway? Everything was fine…

*

“Barry?” Iris asked. She shook him, trying to get a response. She thought she’d heard his say something just a second ago, but now he wasn’t responding at all. “Barry?”

Still, he didn’t say anything or move.

“Dad?” Iris said, still watching Barry for any sign that he could hear her. “Dad, he’s not responding!”

Her dad didn’t respond, but she did feel the car speed up.

They were at S.T.A.R. Labs in record time. Joe threw the car in park, nearly flying out of his seat and throwing open Barry’s door to reach in and pull him out. Iris followed, ready to help take some of Barry’s weight only to see her dad full on lift the brunette bridal style and run into the building. She followed as fast as she could.

The elevator seemed slow, taking more time than was necessary to reach the right floor.

“Ugh, come on!” Iris yelled, wishing she could bash at the buttons, but knowing that would only delay them further.

When the doors finally opened, there was Cisco and Caitlin waiting for them with a gurney.

“We were just coming down to meet you!” Cisco said, obviously startled.

“No time!” Joe panted, laying Barry down on the gurney as gently as he could. He grunted at the loss of weight. He hadn’t lifted Barry like that in years, let alone when the kid was just dead weight.

“When did he lose consciousness?” Caitlin demanded as they wheeled the gurney back to the cortex. Iris followed closely behind her.

“During the ride over. He muttered something about a seatbelt and then he was out.”

“How much blood has he lost?”

“I don’t know,” Joe said. “He was in the shower. It mostly washed down the drain.”

They all blanched for a second as Caitlin cursed loudly. Then she was back to business, asking questions and sending Cisco for blood bags, pulling off Joe’s sloppy bandages. She hesitated.

“You didn’t tell me that these were self inflicted.” Her voice was distant and hard to read as he readied her equipment to do some stitching.

“I…” Iris said.

“She didn’t know.”

Not much more was said as Caitlin and Cisco did what they could, Dr. Wells talking with Joe and Iris and trying to get a handle on the full story. How Barry had been acting weird for weeks, that today he’d been especially off, how he’d stormed away from dinner, and took and hour long shower just for Joe to find him covered in blood and cuts with a broken pink razor on the shower floor around him.

*

Barry was aware that he was awake well before he opened his eyes. He was thinking clearly, and the first thing he realized that was his arms and legs were sore. Of course, he didn’t dare move them.

He heard voices in the room, Joe’s and Cisco’s and Caitlin’s. They were whispering, as if they were afraid of waking him. But he could still make out what they were saying.

“Why isn’t he healing?” That was Joe’s voice.

“We don’t know.” That was Caitlin. “I’ve run tests, and there is nothing to indicate that he’s lost his speed. He’s still taking an insane amount of calories, and his heart rate is still too high for a normal human, but he’s not in danger.”

“We think that it might be the same sort of thing that happened when he lost his powers.” And there was Cisco. “The main reason it took so long for him to regain them was because he didn’t believe in himself.”

“You think he doesn’t believe he can heal?”

“Not exactly…”

“We think he doesn’t want to…”

The room went silent. Barry didn’t know what was happening now, but he figured it would be safe for him to open his eyes and look. They sounded like they were on the other side of the room, after all. Maybe even just outside.

So he cracked his eyes open, fighting the groan the light nearly pulled from him. He took a second to adjust, finally focussing on the three standing by the computers. They weren’t looking at him at all.

_Good._

“Doesn’t want to?” Joe finally responded, staring at Cisco and Caitlin in disbelief. “I fully understand that it looks like my son just attempted suicide, but can he really just turn his powers off and on like that?”

“Well, the mental state of a person has a lot to do with their physical state. There’s the placebo effect, how laughing can make you feel better even if you don’t want to-”

“Disliking a certain food so much that it will make you physically sick to eat it even though there’s nothing wrong with it,” Cisco cut across Caitlin. Both of the others stared at his smile for a second before it disappeared and he seemed to shrink back in on himself.

“Point taken,” Joe said before turning his attention back to Caitlin. “So what does this mean for Barry?”

“Probably just that it will take more time for him to heal. Once he wakes up, we’ll back able to talk to him and know for sure.” She said it with a matter of fact sort of tone that Barry nearly wanted to scoff at. He loved Caitlin, he really did. But what she just said hinged solely on the idea that Barry would be willing to talk about what happened.

And sure, there was a part of him that wanted to scream. He wanted to tell them everything he had ever felt and why he felt it. He wanted to get it off his chest and feel better because he knew that they didn’t want to hurt him. But then again, Barry wanted to suffer.

Barry wanted to hurt. He wanted to be alone, to keep everyone in the dark. He wanted them to realize that just because he acts okay, doesn’t mean he’s fine. He wanted them to leave him be, let him go on with his life. He wanted to get up, get dressed, go to his job, get yelled at by Singh for fucking up again, and act like nothing happened.

Because, damn if he did that, they’d be able to see what it is that he hides.

But that sounds selfish.

_You just did this to hurt them._

That wasn’t true.

Suddenly he was uncomfortable. He felt a weird churning in his stomach, something that made him highly aware of his existence suddenly and the fact that he was visible to people.

Barry tried to shift without anyone noticing, but it didn’t work. Joe was facing him, his line of sight to Barry right between Cisco’s and Caitlin’s heads. He saw the movement, eyes caught by the shift of blankets.

“Barry,” Joe sighed in relief, walking swiftly around Caitlin and coming to sit in the empty seat by Barry’s side. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Barry responded.

“How ya feeling?” Joe asked, reaching out and taking Barry’s hand that rested on top of the blanket. He squeezed it tight, rubbing his thumb over the back of Barry’s hand.

Barry didn’t respond.

The next couple of minutes were full of Caitlin telling him about his healing, saying nothing (yet) about the cuts being self inflicted. Cisco eventually said the inevitable _you scared us, man_ and Barry wanted to blink out of existence again. He didn’t want them to worry about him.

No one meant for him to hurt, after all.

But still, no one asked what they were all obviously thinking.

_Why?_

*

It was nearly a day before anyone asked. Caitlin had told him how he had to stay at S.T.A.R. Labs for the next week to monitor his healing. Then he could go home, but only so long as he was never alone. Barry felt ready to scream already.

But only up until the point Oliver showed up.

The man was suddenly standing in the cortex without anyone knowing he’d been coming.

“Why?” Oliver demanded loudly. Before anyone could even think of stopping him, the blonde was at Barry’s side. He didn’t reach out to touch Barry, which he was thankful for, but he stood there, staring down at him, a strange look in his eyes. It was weird that Barry saw anything there to begin with. Usually they were just some blank sort of mask.

“I-”

“Whatever bullshit was about to come out of your mouth, Allen, I suggest you skip it. I’m not interested in it. Now give me a real answer.” Barry flinched like he’d just been slapped.

“Do you want to die?”

“Is that a threat?” Barry couldn’t believe he’d found his voice just to sass Oliver Queen when he was royally pissed off.

“No,” Oliver growled. “It’s a legitimate question. Do you want to die.”

And… Barry couldn’t answer that. He didn’t know. He hadn’t set out to kill himself. Then again, when he’d gone into the bathroom, he hadn’t set out to cut himself either.

“I don’t know.” His voice was quiet, and sounded shattered, even to his own ears. He averted his eyes from Oliver, not wanting to see the anger grow in the older man’s gaze. He missed the way the man seemed to deflate, how his eyes softened.

Oliver reached out to him then, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He never wanted to admit that he like the speedster, and now was not the time to do it, but if there was ever a time to actually let go of whatever vice grip he had on his feelings, it would be now. Barry needed some tender love and caring right now. And sure, Oliver wasn’t great at that stuff, but he could try to be.

Barry’s shoulder’s curved inwards like he might curl into a ball.

Before anyone could even comprehend what was happening, Barry was leaning his shoulder into Oliver’s midsection, letting the older man rub circles into his back, between his shoulder blades. But no one questioned it. Because Barry was crying.

Barry was crying, and it was the most reaction anyone had gotten out of him in a day and a half. After saying nothing at all, answering with a yes or a no when necessary, he was sobbing into Oliver Queen’s shirt, mumbling strings of _I don’t want to die_ and _it hurts_. Joe caught things like _I want to go home_ or _what’s wrong with me?_.

And Oliver shushed him. He held him like he was something precious (which he was) and hushed him gently until Barry calmed down.

Once he did, Oliver convinced Caitlin to let Barry out of his bed for awhile. She relented reluctantly, more so because she figured that at this point, Oliver was more likely to help him than any of them were. So the two walked out of the room, albeit slowly and with Oliver’s arm firmly wrapped around Barry, keeping him tucked safely into his side.

They came to a stop in another room down the hall. It seemed to be a makeshift bedroom or hospital room, a couple of beds with a few chairs around. Oliver turned on the light and sat them in the chairs, close together, their knees touching.

Barry spilled everything with little prompting.

He trusted Oliver implicitly now, had done since the whole Bivolo incident and Oliver damn near risked his life to stop fix Barry.

So they talked. They talked and talked and talked until Barry was wishing he had a water bottle and less to say. Eventually, Joe found them and offered food, bringing both water bottles and two sandwiches, promising to get more if Barry wanted it. And they continued talking. Barry cried often enough that he figured he should have been ashamed of it, but couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

By the end, Oliver had told him he probably suffered from a mix or some anxiety disorder and a form a depression, and that he should probably talk to his primary physician, who was just down the hall worried sick about him, about it. Barry had huffed out a laugh and agreed.

Eventually, they headed back, joining the others and getting Barry back into his bed where Caitlin insisted that he stay for awhile. He agreed.

Slowly, he told them all portions of what he’d told Oliver. Caitlin said they would sit down together within a day or two, whenever Barry felt ready, and talk everything out and figure out what was going on. From there, if Barry so desired, she could try and create some sort of strong as medication. Of course, that didn’t have to be the answer, but it was an option they could try.

Barry had agreed.

He didn’t really feel any better. He didn’t enjoy the process of talking and putting everything out in the open for everyone to know. And he certainly didn’t like how there were now a lot of rules that were going to govern a least the next two months of his life, but he supposed it could be worse.

Oliver stayed in Central for the next two weeks, trusting the rest of Team Arrow to keep Starling from burning to the ground. More often than not, he was at S.T.A.R. Labs with Barry.

That night, they stayed up and talked more. Caitlin had allowed Barry to get up for another walk again. They found themselves back in the room they had before, seated on the floor, against the wall as Barry damn near curled up in Oliver’s lap. The older man didn’t seem to mind, despite the fact that Barry was the same height as him, and despite being thin and light, was not small. It was in this position that Barry told Oliver he sort of liked him.

Oliver had smiled, though Barry couldn’t see it, and had said he liked him too.

Maybe in their lives they could never really have a working relationship. But tonight didn’t seem like the night to try and figure it out. It could wait for another day.

Another day when Barry wasn’t on suicide watch. Another day when Oliver hadn’t felt nearly rocked to the core upon hearing about Barry’s suicide attempt. Another day when Barry knew in his heart that no one ever wanted to make him feel worthless.

Because for just a brief, shining moment in the midst of Barry’s self hatred and confusion and hurt, he knew that he was loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please, if you saw any mistakes, please let me know. I want to fix them. I am just really tired and I don't want to finish this tomorrow. Let me know what you think! Thanks!


End file.
